We Were Children
by MaybeImAnAnniemal
Summary: Classes, pranks, a changing world. Draco Malfoy and the Nott twins have a lot of growing up to do in a very short amount of time. Care to see what Little Snakes are made of? (The first book in a series of Four in a tale of loyalty, family, war, love, sacrifice, and the age old question: how far would you go, what lines would you cross, for the ones you love?)
1. Chapter 1: Beginnings

A/N: Hi! About two years ago, I started a story called Little Snakes. I loved it, but something kept it from flowing correctly so it was abandoned. Now, I've decided to pick things back up, and the whole story has undergone major edits and changes. Chapters One and Two will have sections that are from the original draft, but both hold massive edits and changes, the most notable, Thalia (my OC) is now Theo's twin, rather than his younger sibling, making her the same age as Draco, Blaise, and obviously, Harry and the rest of the trio and their friends. So I promise, after the first two chapters, the story is 100% new and much improved. So without further ado, I hope you guys enjoy my AU story, Little Snakes!

Chapter One: Beginnings

(London, England 1991)

"I swear to God Thalia if I have to come in there after you…" a disgruntled 11-year-old Theo Nott huffed outside a changing room in Madam Malkin's, waiting on his twin sister.

"Are they supposed to be this long? My knees are itchy," Thalia whined, tugging at her charcoal grey uniform skirt uncomfortably.

"How am I supposed to know? Do I look like I've ever worn a skirt before?" the boy groaned, looking longingly out the window at the ice cream parlor across the street.

"You really don't want me to answer that," the 11-year-old quipped pulling up her green and grey tartan knee socks, flinching at the offensively itchy material. Excited as she was to be leaving for Hogwarts on the first of September, she was thoroughly unenthused with the uniform.

"Oi! Look who's got jokes now? Hurry up, I'd like to leave here before I'm ninety."

"Alright, alright I'm nearly done!" the brunette snapped, tightening her tie and unlocking the door to the changing stall, stepping out, yanking at the back of her skirt, awkwardly. "I think the skirt is too big, surely they don't mean for it to fall mid-calf," she said, rolling her eyes at her brother's vacant stare. "Honestly, just go on. I can meet you at Florean's when I've finished," Thalia huffed, crossing her arms about her chest.

"Really? You'll be okay?" Theo said, his voice hopeful.

"I'm sure I'll be able to survive the fifteen minutes it'll take to fix my skirt and pay. Just go. You're annoying me. We're fraternal twins, not conjoined. Honestly, Theo. I'm fine." she said, holding out her hand where her brother nearly threw the coin purse at her before he clamored out the door like a dog let off its leash.

She went to the mirror, wondering if she was being a bit presumptuous; buying a Slytherin Uniform before she'd been sorted. The girl shook her head and smirked; probably not, considering the last person in her family to _not_ be sorted into Slytherin had been a great-great-great Aunt twice removed about forty years ago. That, and if she somehow wasn't sorted into Slytherin, she wouldn't have to worry about a replacement uniform, because her father would kill her before she ever got the chance to wear it. The girl crinkled her nose and grabbed a roll of green ribbon off the wall. She'd need it to tie up her monstrosity of a hairdo. Wild, unruly dark brown curls that never stayed where she put them, and refused to cooperate no matter what she did with them.

After getting Madam Malkin's guidance on the proper skirt size and paying for her five sets of uniforms, the ebony haired girl found herself walking into Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, groaning internally upon the sight of her brother and his best friend Blaise Zabini having an ice cream eating contest. _Idiots_.

(London, England September 1st, 1991)

It didn't matter that Thalia Nott had seen her twin brother and their friends rush at the cement wall of the charmed platform ten minutes ago, or that she'd been hearing about this her whole life, or even that she was not a stranger to magic in the slightest. Thalia Nott found it utterly ridiculous to run full force at a giant block of brick with a rolling cart. With that amount of momentum you'd be asking for a concussion upon arrival on the other side, if you asked her. She stood, stunned still staring up at the sign that plainly said "Platform 9 ¾" in red lettering. She swallowed thickly, the neck of her shirt suddenly feeling too tight.

Theo had already run through, effectively abandoning her. She hadn't expected anything less. They were both experiencing freedom for the first time. The twins were finally able to breathe easily, away from the suffocating grip of their father, Theobald Nott. They were both thrilled at the prospect of having a second dwelling for nine months out of the year for at least the next seven years. Aside from a good education, it provided sanctuary from their father with a distinct taste for firewhiskey, and a distinct lack of paternal instinct, and a fondness of a charmed leather strap when they misbehaved. So, it wasn't a surprise to see him go from her over-protective shadow to carefree 11-year-old boy as soon as he saw his friends. That's how he was supposed to be after all.

She wasn't sure how long she stood with her cart in front of the platform; at least twenty minutes, considering the number of trains that had passed her.

The girl politely declined when a rather worried Security Guard asked if she was lost, and ended up frowning, deciding that she was definitely too chicken to run through the platform. No, she'd much rather go to Hogwarts next year anyway, when she was older, wiser, more distinguished.

She pushed her cart over to a bench, sitting and staring into the carrier that held a regal looking white cat. He was a large beast, with almond shaped amber eyes and a pink nose, long silky white fur and with just looking at him, you'd never guess he was a complete moron. The cat had literally run into a door the other day, and when he found he couldn't simply walk through it, the animal backed up and _tried again._ She'd named him Hatter after the Mad Hatter in her favorite book, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. He was just as clumsy, and probably just as mad as the Mad Hatter himself, so it seemed a fitting name.

The cat meowed at the girl, who frowned. "I promise we'll go next year. I just don't think either of us are ready for this kind of commitment. Do you?"

 _Meow._

"Well I'm glad you have that much self confidence, but not all of us are that self assured," Thalia huffed, turning away from the animal, crossing her legs.

She heard someone clear their throat behind her, to which a crimson flush flooded her cheeks. She tensed, not moving, hoping if she ignored them, they'd go away.

"So, you're speaking to cats now. That's new," a voice she just knew was accompanied by a smirk chortled behind her.

Thalia groaned. _Perfect._ "Yes, we get it, I'm odd and a little bit crazy. Now could you please go run off and do whatever it is that you do? I'm a little busy here," she said, the frown evident in her tone.

She didn't dare look up when she felt someone sit next to her. "Yes, I can see that," Draco Malfoy said, tugging at one of the girl's ringlets. "You do know the train leaves in forty-five minutes, right?" the blond said, gesturing towards the platform.

"No, that is brand new information. Please tell me more," the girl dead panned, looking up at him with a glare. "I know full well when the train leaves. I just won't be on it."

"While I'm sure dearest Teddy will simply be _thrilled_ with that decision," the boy began sarcastically, "You were gabbing my ear off last weekend and driving me mad with all your packing lists and supply runs you needed to make to be "adequately prepared". What changed?" he asked, still trying to figure out exactly why he cared. There'd always been something about the small curly top that drew him in, and he'd always been confused as to why. The other girls in their group had never influenced him one way or the other, much less caused him to _care_ for them.

"I'mscaredtorunontotheplatformIdon'twannadie," the girl rushed out, squishing her words together.

"Let's try that again, this time in English, Lia," the amused blond said, rolling his eyes at her.

"I'm scared to run at the platform. What stops you on the other side from running into something and getting a concussion?" she asked, feeling about as foolish as she sounded.

"Such a little worry wart," the Malfoy heir said, snickering. "Come on then. I'll run with you. It's honestly not a big deal," he said, bumping shoulders with her. "I'm still alive, aren't I? I ran onto the platform a bit ago." He encouraged, hoping she didn't ask him why he'd come back across, knowing he'd have to admit he'd come looking for her, noticing her absence.

"Yes, but you're not exactly smart enough for there to be a noticeable difference were you to have gotten brain damage," she said, the beginnings of a smile on her face.

"Oh, Thalia, I'm wounded, truly," the boy said, poking her side. "Let's go. We can't be late." He said, pulling her off the bench and dragging her over to the platform.

The petite girl tensed, readying herself for the imminent pain she was surely about to experience. She looked to Draco. "So, we just run?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. We just run," he said, looking around him anxiously before offering the girl his hand. He may care, but he had a reputation to uphold. He couldn't be seen actually _helping_ her. No, that would be ridiculous.

Thalia grabbed his hand in a vice-like grip as they began jogging, picking up speed. As she neared the wall, she slammed her eyes shut, bracing for impact. When it didn't come and she felt Draco pull her to a stop, the brunette gingerly opened her eyes. "I'm alive?!"

"Of course. It's magic," he said, chuckling.

Draco grabbed the handle of her knapsack, as well as the carrier that held her cat and handed them to her, placing his trunk on top of hers on the luggage cart.

"That's all you need with you. The rest goes in the baggage car. That's what my Mum said." he explained, pushing the cart over to the conductor who was accepting baggage. He continued on, walking over to a large group of boys with Theo near the center. "You should really keep better track of her. I found her on the muggle side of the gate having a panic attack, Nott," Malfoy snapped, shoving Theo's shoulder roughly.

"Excuse me for believing she could accomplish running twenty yards without me," he said, narrowing his gaze at the taller boy. Thalia flushed at the insult, staring down at her shoes, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

"Well maybe you should've checked before you ran off to kiss up to the fourth years!" Draco boomed, pushing his chest out, standing up straight to his full height, a good four inches taller than the older Nott.

"Gods, Malfoy what are you, my father? Lighten up a bit… jeez."

"You both realize I'm _right here_ , don't you?" she asked, and soon realized her question was rhetorical as they'd both been distracted from their argument and taken away by the group, the topic of conversation changing. She shook her head, thoroughly done with the lot of them, at least for a little bit. She decided to venture onto the train early, hoping to find an empty compartment she could claim for herself.

Eventually finding one, she sat her cat carrier on the seat and struggling to reach the storage above them for her bag. After a minute or so of hopeless stretching, she settled for tucking the bag under the seat. Thalia pulled her wand out of her jacket pocket, staring at it. It was still a little daunting. Fourteen inches, made of Hawthorn with a Phoenix Feather Core. She swished it experimentally, and giggled when the door to her cat's cage swung open. The feline stared at her balefully, looking bored. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well I know it's not all that impressive, but I'm not too skilled yet, am I?" she asked him, looking out the window, and an excited grin on her face.

(Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, September 1st, 1991)

 _This must be what cows feel like,_ Thalia mused as she and the other hundred or so first years were herded off the grounds and into the castle, clamoring down a staircase to the entryway before the Great Hall. She spotted her brother and Draco further up ahead, raising an eyebrow as she saw Draco talking to Harry Potter. _Interesting._

The castle fit no description she'd ever heard. It was massive and regal, with ornate stonework, which would have seemed daunting and cold, if it weren't for the vines of ivy growing along the walls. The lights were all golden, it seemed, giving the large opposing structure warmth. It exuded security, safety, and contentment. The only proper description, she thought, was the one Mrs. Malfoy had offered her two years ago when she consoled the girl after she'd fled her home when her father was in one of his rages.

 _"_ _I know it's going to be difficult these next years, Thalia. Just hold on, because Hogwarts is waiting for you. It feels like coming home, when you walk into the castle for the first time. I promise. Hogwarts will be your home, and you know you and your brother are welcome here anytime, yes?"_

The dark haired child grinned as they were finally ushered into the Great Hall, staring at the bewitched ceiling, marveling at the floating candles and stars she was finally seeing in person.

"The ceiling is insane." Blaise Zabini whispered in her ear as he shoved a boy aside as he came to stand next to her. Thalia nodded and chuckled, bumping his shoulder with hers. She had grown up right alongside Blaise, Draco and of course Theo, so they were all extremely close.

"So's the half giant at the staff's table." She whispered back, pointing discretely at the mountain of a man sitting next to a small man who had to be at least half goblin he was so short. The pair snickered as the group of first years slid closer together in the front of the Great Hall.

As the new students waited for Professor McGonagall to call their names to be sorted, it was all Thalia could do to keep from projectile vomiting on the marble flooring from nerves. She'd never been good at making friends, and she'd only just realized how truly horrible it would be to end up in any other house except Slytherin. After all, she had only been told of how things worked at Hogwarts in that specific house. She would be way out of her element should she be stuck anywhere else.

Though she supposed The Sorting Hat knew what it was doing, so if she was truly supposed to be somewhere else it couldn't possibly be the end of the world…. Right?

"Thalia Nott!" Minerva McGonagall's regal voice carried out over the Great Hall, and the dark haired child felt a shiver run up her spine. She cursed the fact that her name came first alphabetically, even though Theo was older by twelve minutes. She wasn't used to being called first, of the two siblings.

As she took careful steps towards the stool next to the Gryffindor Head of House, she had to fight back a smile as she saw Draco nod at her from the Slytherin Table, pointing to the spot next to him, a smirk on his face. Theo looked about as nauseous as she did, and Blaise looked irritated. He must have realized this was done alphabetically.

Her friends were idiots, but at least they were decently sweet idiots.

She sat on the stool, and was unable to look at the hundreds of eyes peering _right_ at her. So, with shut eyes, she felt the hat be placed upon her head.

"Your thoughts are quite clear. You'd choose the darkest House for yourself, hmmm?" she heard the deep timbre of the Hat's voice waft over the crowd, effectively silencing everyone.

"N-no.. I-I mean… i-it's just my whole family's been in Slytherin. Darkest house?" the child whispered, her head dipping slightly, confused and slightly embarrassed.

"And a Nott as well? You come from a long line of incredibly intelligent magic, little Nott," the Hat said, but for some reason, that didn't sound like a compliment.

"Er… thank you?" she responded, unsure of what was taking the Hat so long.

"I'm allowed to take my time every now and again, especially with someone as challenging as yourself." the Hat roared, causing the child to flinch. "You're much too…. Cunning for Gryffindor, oh and definitely too witty for Hufflepuff, no that's a much more… relaxed group of youngsters…" the Hat mused, and Thalia had never felt more exposed. The Hat hadn't talked this much with the other students. "I suppose I could toss you in Ravenclaw, you've got the wit for it, indeed… but you're too passionate for that," she felt her shoulders relax. "So yes, I guess you get to carry on the family tradition, Little Nott. SLYTHERIN," The Hat boomed, sending the entire Slytherin table to their feet, roars of applause and shouting carrying through the Great Hall.

Thalia beamed, jumping out of the stool as soon as the Hat left her head, running over to her house's table, grinning as Draco shoved Gregory Goyle out of the way so she could sit next to him, the glass in front of her magically filling with pumpkin juice. As she took a sip, she could have sworn she felt someone tug one of her curls, but when she turned around to look, no one was around her.

She sat at _her_ house's table, and realized she was wrong before. Hogwarts may be her new world, but Slytherin was definitely her new home. Mrs. Malfoy was right. She finally had a home.


	2. Chapter 2: Promises

(A/N: Howdy! This is the last chapter that has content from the original version of this story, so the next chapter will be 100% new content, and I'm so excited to jump into the meat of this story, which will take place during GoF, OotP and HBP. Enjoy Chapter Two, folks!)

Chapter Two: Promises

(Slytherin Common Room, June 1994)

(Third Year)

Sighing over her Transfiguration essay for the fourth time that day, Thalia Nott gave up. She slammed her book shut, rolled up her scrolls of parchment, and forcefully shoved them back into her knapsack. "Bloody boring… stupid assignment… waste of my time," she muttered, throwing all of her things into her bag, huffing and puffing the whole way. She'd never admit that the concept of transfiguring one's hat into a paper airplane seemed stupid and utterly confusing to her, or that so far all she'd managed to do was get the hat into a crumpled up piece of paper. No, not ever.

She was granted a much wanted distraction in the form of Draco Malfoy. He came bursting into the common room, hair disheveled and robes wrinkled and spattered with mud. Crabbe and Goyle stumbled in after him, one buffoon holding his books, the other holding his bag. Sometimes she pitied the oafs, serving Malfoy like their fathers served his; it seemed pathetic. Though, when you considered the intelligence level of the pair, it was probably an act of kindness that Draco ensured they never choked on their own dinner or something equally tragic and admittedly predictable.

"Filthy Gryffindors! So damn rude! The gall of these morons I swear, Goyle…" The boy shouted, his anger so strong it resulted in accidental magic, the common room fire surging—the flames erupting so large they licked the frayed ends of the tapestry above the fireplace. Thalia flinched as she felt the heat from the flame, which matched the rage in his eyes—wait, did one look swollen? The girl looked around to see the rest of the students that had been lounging on the couches had fled, leaving her the only bystander to the boy's temper tantrum. "It's disgusting! The things they're allowed to get away with! You know if any of us down in the dungeons punched a student, we'd get detentions for a month! But perfect Potter and his Potty Gang get a free pass!"

Thalia rolled her eyes. Draco seemed obsessed with Harry Potter and his friends, giving them a hard time, and getting frustrated when he didn't win their little spats—which to his agitation—and her amusement- was often. She personally didn't have anything personal against the group of Gryffindors, unlike the rest of her housemates in her year. "Twenty galleons says you actually deserved to be punched Draco," she called from her spot reclined back on one of the over stuffed leather couches, grinning from ear to ear, her arms crossed behind her head casually.

The blond wasn't facing her, so she had the pleasure of seeing his shoulders tense, his fists clench, and his back stiffen. The girl could already picture the scowl now firmly implanted on her friend's face.

He turned to face her slowly, and she was rewarded with the scowl she knew he'd wear. "Have something to say, Thalia?" he spat, stalking over to her couch, towering over her, and had it been anyone else, they'd probably be intimidated.

"Well since you so courteously asked," the girl said, grinning smugly, relishing in the way his face changed color, rivaling the most vibrant Weasley red. "You did open your mouth and say something stupid, right? That's why Potter… no… Weasley. That's why Weasley punched you. Correct?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the older boy, fighting the urge to giggle with glee as his face passed red, working its way towards purple. Honestly she was doing him a favor. He shouldn't be so easy to work up. She was teaching him patience… while providing herself with immense enjoyment of his suffering.

Hearing snickers behind Draco, she refocused her attention on the two gargoyles flanking her friend. "What? Did one of you fart or something?" she asked, never having the patience for the two idiots.

"No! Its just that... well… it weren't Weasley tha' did the punchin'." Crabbe said, blushing and rocking back and forth on his large feet.

"Wait… you mean… Potter? He doesn't seem the type…" Thalia said, frowning. Surely the oaf was confused.

"No! The mudblood! The girl one that Potter keeps around like a pet!" Goyle cheered, grinning jovially, as if proud of his ability to distinguish a girl from a boy.

"Wait… surely you don't mean—Granger? Hermione Granger the bookworm?" she asked, fighting back a snicker herself as she watched Draco avert his gaze. "It WAS her! You got punched by a girl?" she asked, trying to decide between laughing at her friend, and being furious with Granger. She _punched_ him? How positively vulgar! No matter what he did—she was sure he'd done something to merit the backlash—but to punch him? Barbaric and unacceptable. The mudblood would pay for what she'd done; Thalia would make certain of it.

"Shut it. Just… sod off the lot of you," he moaned, stomping up the steps to his dormitory.

Thalia stood, turning to Draco's lackeys. "Don't follow us, understood?" she ordered, and seeing the big dopes nod, she followed, always finding it curious how boys couldn't get into the girls' dorms, but girls had no trouble at all climbing the steps to the boys' dormitory.

She saw a few second years lounging around in the dorm. Thalia pointed to the door. "Out! The lot of you! MOVE. Unless you'd like me to tell my brother I caught you snooping 'round his bunk," the girl smirked, raising an eyebrow. The whole house had a deep fear of her brother, and though she wasn't exactly sure why, she guessed at least a part of it came from how quiet he was. The fact remained it was a useful tool she utilized often. The third year grinned to herself as all the stragglers leapt up and left the room.

The curtains to Draco's bed were drawn shut. She left him be and went over to the sink, and wet a washcloth with warm water. Thalia moved over to his four poster bed, pulling back the curtains. "Here. For your face. So it doesn't swell too badly," she muttered, pressing the cloth into his hand.

"You're not supposed to be up here." He complained, but didn't move her hand away from his face.

"Like that's ever stopped me before…" she chuckled, frowning as she got a better look at his face. "What did you do, Draco? She hit you hard," Thalia whispered, fighting the urge to touch the swelling bruise on his cheekbone.

"We went to go watch the execution of that bloody pigeon that attacked me," Draco began, sitting up slightly, his lips drawn tightly into a scowl.

"Buckbeak the Hippogriff… I remember. Your father was very cross about that one," she whispered, knowing better than to stop him while he was sharing—a rare occurrence to begin with.

"Potter and his minions were there too, so I asked them if they'd come to see the show…" Draco snarled, his fist clenching. "She called me a cockroach and I thought she was going to hex me, but when she lowered her wand to walk away the brat doubled back and sucker punched me," he mumbled, pale skin flushing crimson. "It was humiliating."

"She shouldn't have punched you… that's true- but you know better than to provoke her," the small girl whispered, frowning. "You care too much about them. They get under your skin far too easily," she noted, lifting the cloth from his eye to get a better look. "It's definitely going to bruise, but once the swelling's gone down a bit I can put a concealment charm over it, if you wanted." She murmured, gingerly patting the swelling just below his eyebrow, a frown settled onto her face.

"Why are you helping me? This gives you enough ammo to extort me for months," Draco said, half teasing, raising an eyebrow and wincing as it tugged on his sore eye.

"I may decide to do that, yet, Malfoy," the teen said, grinning. "But deserved or not, I'd rather she hexed you. Using your fists to punish someone is so childish and barbaric… we'd have been whipped if we did that at home," the girl said, shuddering slightly," Thalia seethed, furious. The younger Nott clenched her fists, her eyes alight with a vengeful burn that Draco knew too well.

"Don't do anything stupid, Lia." the boy muttered quietly, his embarrassed anger vanishing from his face, replaced with careful concern.

"We promised each other years ago that bruises on our skin would not go unanswered for anymore." She muttered darkly, reminding the Malfoy heir of a whispered vow spoken by bruised and battered children long ago.

Draco sighed. "Thalia, just sit down. Merlin, you can't do anything," the boy groaned, closing his eyes and draping his arm across his forehead. "You're making my headache worse…"

What he didn't say is that it was nice to have someone care, even if that someone was a bratty little princess of a first year. He'd never had people want to protect him. Just do his bidding because they feared him—err, his father.

"Well I'm not just going to sit idly by while they high five about attacking you like cavemen!" she snapped, crossing her hands about her chest, huffing irritably. She knew she was irrationally angry, that the majority of her anger was not with some offended Gryffindor princess, but rather the parenting styles of two men who believed mistakes were to be worn on your skin.

 _(Nott Estate, 1989)_

 _Thalia Nott barely flinched when her bedroom window groaned open, silently sneaking out of bed to shut her bedroom door, placing a pillow against the bottom of it, dampening any sound from the inside of her bedroom. "Are you okay?" She whispered, pulling open her dresser and removing a small first aid kit she kept there. She wished this was an unusual occurrence. She was no stranger to whippings. She and her brother had had their share, but at least their father seemed to spend more time sleeping off too much firewhiskey than being awake and angry these days. It seemed Mr. Malfoy could find his son's breathing offensive enough to warrant a "lesson"._

 _The blond boy sat on her bed and shrugged. "I just couldn't sleep." He whispered, picking at a stray thread in her quilt._

 _Thalia stepped closer to him, and noticed the small cuts on the insides of his palms. A rage filled her that no nine-year-old should know, much less understand. Murder. Her entire body shook with the desire to murder Lucius Malfoy. She sat down, and carefully began to clean and wrap his hands. "One day, you, me, Theo… we'll all be far away from them, right?" She asked quietly, staring at his hands, her eyes welling with tears._

 _"_ _Yeah. One day." He muttered, and she could tell he was fighting back tears of his own._

 _"_ _And one day, they will answer for every mark they left on us." She met his gaze, her eyes bright with a burning fire of pure hatred. She took his hand. "Promise me. We'll make them answer for it. You and me." She nodded to herself, and the corner of Draco's lips quirked upwards, an almost smile taking over his lips._

 _"_ _Yeah. You and me."_

"Look, I'll write a letter to my father, and this will be dealt with," he muttered, looking away from her, pulling her out of her memory.

"No! You can't tell your father!" Thalia screeched, small arms tightening around the pillow she'd pulled into her lap, the small girl's eyes wide with fear.

"Why the bloody hell not? They _struck me,_ Thalia," Draco spat, his tone venomous.

"Yes! And he'll do worse if he finds out you let them!" she said worriedly, her voice dropping as if Lucius Malfoy could hear them all the way from Scotland. "Draco…"

" _Shut it. You don't know anything._ Are we clear?-Not a damn thing!" he snarled, his gaze icy cold as he recoiled, moving to stand. "I think you should leave now."

"I didn't mean, I just… Draco, you know how he is—"

"Well that man is my father, and I'll not listen to this!" he gestured toward the door. "You don't know what you're talking about." He said icily, his glare settled over her, and Thalia flinched.

Stunned, the girl's eyes filled with tears. "I-I just didn't want you to get hurt anymore. I-I wouldn't say anything," she whispered, her voice broken and almost pleading. She turned and ran from the dorm, pushing Goyle out of the way as she fled down the stairs and out of the common room, taking off into the labyrinth of the dungeon.

The next day, Thalia gave Crabbe five galleons to tell Tracey Davis that Draco Malfoy required a vial of her befuddlement draught and to leave it with Goyle- who Thalia bribed with a copy of Wild Witches Weekly (collective shudder, shall we?) and to finish it off, she gave 7th year Marcus Flint a whopping hundred galleons. His mission was to terrify a Gryffindor Prefect into snagging Hermione Granger's knapsack and deliver it to Goyle, who was to have everything waiting on her in the broom cupboard down the hall from the portrait hole to their common room. The first rule of shenanigans—never directly steal, or brew a forbidden potion yourself. Get easily bought minions to do it for you.

The plan was simple, lace her books and parchment with the potion, and possibly soak her entire bag in the draught, depending on time. The effects wouldn't have her severely confused, but would definitely cause the little know-it-all some embarrassing fumbles on her exams. Hopefully enough to get the snotty little know-it-all held back a year. To truly hurt your enemy, know where to hit them for maximum impact. The snotty little over achiever loved her perfect scores more than anything. Perfect target.

Thalia waited until after midnight prefect rounds, knowing she had until two AM until they'd return. She snuck down the stairs and out of the common room, the dungeon hallway dark and empty. As the girl neared the broom cupboard, she felt a hand close down on her shoulder. Jumping slightly and turning around, she let out a loud sigh.

"My office. Now," Professor Snape ordered in his nasally monotone.

Thalia grumbled and followed, her arms crossed in front of her petulantly.

Severus Snape knew Thalia Nott would be a difficult student the moment he'd met her. She had the intelligence of her brother, but it was paired with a gall and tenacity of being the youngest, female daughter of a rich, pureblood family. To say he was less than surprised to discover Gregory Goyle ogling topless witches, and that the delegating Nott was responsible was an understatement.

The slender man lifted Hermione Granger's bag, a bottle of a badly brewed Befuddlement Draught, and the copy of Wild Witch Weekly he'd confiscated from Gregory Goyle onto his desk. The middle aged wizard sat behind it, weaving his long fingers together in front of him patiently. "Care to explain yourself?"

Severus fought the urge to smirk when the dark haired little witch scoffed. She huffed and rolled her eyes as she crossed her legs. "Goyle. Oaf. Should have gone with Crabbe. Bloody snitch."

"Actually, of the two, your safest bet was Goyle, though why you'd trust either of them to pull something like this off effectively shows your arrogance and foolishness. You should be glad I'm the one who found Gregory practically skipping down the halls with this trash, instead of any other unassuming staff member," the teacher scolded, gesturing to the dirty magazine. "Where did you even get this?" he asked, flipping it over so the witch shimmying on the cover was face down on the desk.

The teen shrugged. "I found it," her cheeks darkened to an unflattering shade of crimson.

"Yes, let's pretend that was believable and get on to the meat of it. I'm exhausted and you should've been in bed long ago," he muttered, shaking his head. "What did you intend to do with this potion?" he asked, lifting the bottle, inspecting its consistency through the tinted glass.

"That twit Granger _punched_ Draco, Professor, with _no_ consequences! I was just going to make her a bit confused during exams," she exclaimed, fighting the urge to lift her nose, a bad habit that she'd been trying to curb.

"Miss Nott, I'm sure you've already discovered that Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter are the three students who could light the school on fire, admit their wrongdoing, and not be punished," he drolled, yet again fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "Life at Hogwarts will be much simpler for you if you learn to accept that."

"Potter's the Chosen One, not Granger, why's she so bloody special?" the girl spat, unable to contain her repulsion for the girl.

"You could say she fell in with the right people," the Head of House lamented, tilting his head to the side, eyeing the young girl in front of him. "There's a lesson to take from this—you are the company you keep, Ms. Nott."

"But she's a Mud-"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," the man's tone was suddenly sharp and serious, rather than the irritated understanding it had held before, holding a glint of residual anger and resentment that couldn't possibly have anything to do with the girl in question.

Thalia gulped. "Sorry, Professor," she even had the good decency to look down at her clasped hands in embarrassment.

"You're not to do anything more to exact whatever revenge you feel Ms. Granger deserves," Snape ordered, his gaze narrowed on the girl. "You behaved stupidly, and had anyone else caught you, you'd have detention for a month, maybe more."

The girl sighed. "He's my friend," she muttered quietly, wringing her hands together. "His eye is purple, Professor. It was barbaric and cruel. We're magical. Its so primitive to strike someone with your hands," Thalia's voice was small, concerned and frustrated.

The man sighed. He felt for the girl, as much as it pained him to admit. He knew the struggle of seeing someone you cared about suffering, and feeling helpless on the sidelines. "How d'you think Ms. Granger would feel about an E on her next Potions assignment?" he almost surprised himself, the words slipping out before he'd fully thought them over.

The girl's face was priceless, her emotions flittering over it quickly like a slideshow; shock, surprise, uncertainty, and finally settling on a dazzling grin that slid into a smirk. "Oh, Professor she'd _hate_ that!" the girl practically bounced in her seat. "You mean it? You'd do that? For Draco?" she asked, her eyes hopeful as she looked across the desk at her Head of House.

Severus nodded, unsure why he was offering something so trivial to an thirteen-year-old. Perhaps he was in a giving mood. Perhaps he was just as irritated with Dumbledore for picking favorites as he was with the Gryffindor Trio for being nearly beyond reproach. Or maybe, unbeknownst to even himself, he saw a bit of himself in the girl—chasing revenge for her loved ones, beyond reason, caution, or rules.


End file.
